


Of food, friendships and apologies

by ArtanisNaanie



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Food, Food is a love language, Gen, If you want - Freeform, No Slash, One Shot, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Post-Canon Fix-It, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:33:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27954674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtanisNaanie/pseuds/ArtanisNaanie
Summary: “Food is fuel” was what they taught in Kaer Morhen. Taste was an afterthought, or even ignored completely. They were trained to recognize edible food by eye and smell, how to prepare and cure meat and fish to make it easy to carry, how to optimize the amount of fuel while minimizing the amount of food (Nuts. That was the secret. Nuts).
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 22
Kudos: 68
Collections: Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo





	Of food, friendships and apologies

**Author's Note:**

> I finally finished a fic!
> 
> This is for my "favourite food" square of the Sugar and Spice Witcher bingo, which I was so happy to have because, well, food.
> 
> Thanks to Liz and Naomi, my wonderful betas, Nickel and to every friend who has encouraged me!

“Food is fuel” was what they taught in Kaer Morhen. Taste was an afterthought, or even ignored completely. They were trained to recognize edible food by eye and smell, how to prepare and cure meat and fish to make it easy to carry, how to optimize the amount of fuel while minimizing the amount of food (Nuts. That was the secret. Nuts).

The Kaer’s kitchen was efficient in feeding everyone enough, and no one thought there was more to food than bland stews and semi-stale bread, grilled meat, and nettle soups. No one complained. No one even thought about it. Tasty food was at the very bottom of the ladder of a Witcher’s concern.

When Geralt left for the Path, once the trials and his training were complete, he kept the same approach to food: eat when needed, beware of rotten meat, don’t waste. He hunted and roasted hares and pheasants on his campfire, he dried deer when he got a good catch, he kept almonds in his pack at all times, and that was that.

When he occasionally stopped at a tavern and ordered some food he slurped the watery stews or the thick pottages without thinking about it; he did it quickly, before some patron decided to hurl something at him, or a tenant decided they, actually, didn’t serve mutants in their shitty establishment. The upside of dining in a tavern was that he didn’t have to prepare his food and, for Geralt, that was a real luxury. 

When Jaskier came along, all lanky limbs and loose tongue and determination, Geralt fed him as he fed himself and tuned out his complaints as soon as they started. The Witcher didn’t see the problem in eating roasted hare for the fourth night in a row: there were hares, they were easy to hunt, they cooked quickly, they filled the stomach, they were the perfect food. Any food was the perfect food for someone who knew hunger, but apparently, this didn’t apply to Jaskier. 

\---

Geralt had gotten quite good at tuning out Jaskier’s ramblings and tuning back in when the tone seemed to imply a question, followed by some amount of silence sufficient to let him know an answer was required or, at least, expected. Then it was just a matter of waiting for Jaskier to repeat the question.

"I said, what's your favorite food, Geralt?"

Must have been stupid questions hour, then.

"Food."

Geralt didn’t glance down at the bard but he could visualize him sputtering indignantly at Roach's side.

"Well, while I'm frankly relieved to hear that you don't eat shit," Geralt suppressed a snort and the impulse to reply to that, “food is not an answer, Geralt, obviously. You must have foods you like better than others, don’t you?”

“Yes, the ones without mold.”

Jaskier sighed rather dramatically.

“Come on, Witcher, there must be something! Do you like, I don’t know, stews, fruits, bread, fish, seafood, cheese?”

“Yes,” was Geralt’s answer, because it was true. Food was food, food was fuel, every food was good because it was needed to go on. That’s about the depth of Geralt’s philosophy on food. 

“You’re unbelievable,” Jaskier muttered in response, “you want to tell me that you can smell a fire at more than five miles of distance but that your sense of taste doesn’t discriminate between roasted hare and stewed eel?? How is that possible?”

Geralt didn’t answer to that, but it didn’t matter anyway because, as it happened, Jaskier was just getting started.

\---

Over the next several years Jaskier introduced Geralt to a variety of foods, determined to get a reaction out of him. There were the simple ones (“Try and tell me this isn’t the best bread you’ve ever tasted, Geralt, the ratio between the crust and the inside, the softness of it, the right amount of salt, how it melts on your tongue to leave a hint of sweetness behind!” “Hmm.”), the more elaborate ones (“Isn’t Derilla’s stew marvelous, Geralt? The meat is melting in my mouth, the bitter taste of the ale just playing symphonies with the star anise and the pepper, the sauce just dense enough to coat your palate like a hug from the inside!” “Hmm.”), and the frankly ridiculous ones (“Yes, this.. no, Geralt, I really can’t with this one.” “Hmm.”). 

There were the ingredients (“How can you say that boar and duck taste the same to you, Geralt, how can you? They’re as different as daffodils and buttercups!” “You mean yellow flowers.” “Yes, _no_ , Geralt!”), the fruits (“You really should taste those berries, Geralt, they are sweet and tangy and.. oh. Excuse me for a moment.” Geralt had some difficulties to not laugh out loud as Jaskier ran to empty himself behind a bush), the spices (“and this is mustard-” “I know what mustard is, Jaskier.” “Maybe, but have you ever used it?” “Sure, it keeps the animals away from my pack of jerky. They don’t like the smell.” “...Sweet Melitele’s tits, Geralt!”) and the cooking methods (“You should try to rotate the stick, Geralt, so it cooks more evenly, and also we could paste it with its fat so it stays moist and tender.” “It’s hare, Jaskier, it doesn't have fat.”) discussions. 

There were the requests for feedback (“Good is not enough, Geralt, try to use more than one word, what did it make you feel?” “Full.”) and the excruciating details of every banquet Jaskier ever attended.

And then there was a dragon hunt.

\---

Geralt hadn’t realized how well Jaskier had been feeding him until he wasn’t there anymore. 

The roasted meat tasted like ash, the bread was stale, the cheese had mold on it. It was food, of course, it was still fuel and Geralt kept eating it, but it was not _good_. 

Geralt managed for a fortnight before he went looking for his bard. 

\---

Jaskier was not, and never had been, inconspicuous. Finding him took less than a week and was only a matter of following songs and broken hearts. 

Finding him, however, was not the biggest problem.

Geralt knew he had said some pretty shitty things to him on that mountain, blinded by rage and grief. He knew he had to _apologize_ , even if the concept was not agreeing with him. He just had no idea how to do it. Words were hard.

Hengfors was busy and smelly as it had always been, the market crowded and loud as Geralt ventured between the stands, eyes skirting on the fabrics, the furs, the weapons on display. His mind was blank even if he tried to come up with a way to approach the bard without him breaking his beloved lute on his head. 

It was as he reached the edibles part of the market that something clicked. He parted with more money than he ever thought to spend on food. 

\---

“The bard’s room?” Geralt asked the innkeeper, not bothering with introductions or niceties. Now that he had a plan he needed to put it in motion as soon as possible. 

The woman glared at him under thick eyebrows, assessed him -his swords, his hair, his eyes, his large package in his hands- and decided to be satisfied with what she saw because she directed him towards Jaskier’s room without another word. Geralt thanked her with an appreciative nod and climbed the stairs. 

There was a melody coming out from under the door, something soft and nostalgic, and Geralt hesitated a moment, listening to it. He knocked.

“Come in, Mara, come in, I was just rehearsing...Geralt? What are you doing here?”

Jaskier was sitting on the bed, his lute on his knees, several notebooks and paper sheets displayed in front of him, and his forehead furrowed as soon as he took in Geralt’s presence at the door.

The Witcher stayed silent as he came into the room and walked to the little table set under the slight window of the room. He set the package down, took off his swords, and started to open all the little wrapped packets and set them on the board he bought for the occasion. 

There were different kinds of cheeses, three different breads, some cured meat that was incredibly expensive, and a little jar of lavender honey. While he worked silently he could feel Jaskier’s gaze on him and at the corners of his vision he could see him stand still, arms crossed across his chest, pinched lips. The silence stretched, thick and bothersome, unusual as it was when Jaskier was involved. Its end brought something akin to relief.

“What are you doing?”

There was an edge to Jaskier’s voice, a sharp edge Geralt knew very well but rarely had heard directed at him. It was the kind of cold anger that usually Jaskier directed towards insulting folks, or clients who tried to rob Geralt of his due. It was chilly as if the temperature in the room had just dropped from summer to winter in just a sentence.

“I brought your favorites,” Geralt answered, trying to set his own voice in a softer, mellower tone. It wasn’t easy. He wasn’t used to it. He checked his spread one last time before turning towards his friend.

Jaskier hummed. Geralt felt, for the first time, how it must feel to talk to him.

“There’s the truffled triple crème you wrote a poem about when we were in Ghelibol, and the walnut bread you said it would be best to pair it with. There’s the extra mature hard cheese from Creyden with the lavender honey. There's soft goat cheese with olive bread. There’s the dried cured ham we had in Maribor that you said you could make love to, which is still odd, but I found it. And then there’s this one, it’s a sheep cheese and was recommended by the merchant. I haven’t sampled it yet, I wondered if we could do it together.”

As he talked and pointed to each item he took in Jaskier’s appearance, the way his shoulders started to drop, how his gaze turned fond as he looked at the cheeses, the slight upturn of his lips. As Jaskier opened up, Geralt felt weeks of weariness and tension leave his back.

“Is ‘Sorry I’ve been an ass to you’ really that difficult to say that you preferred to spend an absurd amount of money on this instead, Witcher?” Jaskier asked, a trill of laughter in his voice that finished to relax Geralt’s shoulders.

“Yes,” he replied, adding his knife to the board and indicating it to Jaskier. The bard smiled, a little thing just at the edge of his mouth, and broke a piece of the white bread.

“Hmm, yes, well, they say food is one of the languages of love, don’t they?”

“Who’s ‘they?’”

“Don’t be a shit, Geralt, now, fetch a chair for me, would you?” Jaskier asked, waving a hand in the air, and Geralt hid a smile turning around to fetch the second chair.

\---

“So, what’s _your_ favorite food, Geralt?” Jaskier asked, once all the cheeses and cured ham and bread were gone, followed by a pitcher of red wine that was surprisingly not bad.

“It’s still just food, but I must admit I eat better when you’re around, Bard,” he answered, the feel of a half-smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well, you better keep me around then, Witcher,” Jaskier replied, easy smile and sharp eyes, and Geralt could do nothing else but agree.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Comments and kudos are always appreciated and feed your author!
> 
> Check out my other Witcher fics:
> 
> \- [A piper at the gates of dawn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23411083/chapters/56107210); canon universe, ep 6 fix-it, rated E, <9k. Geralt finds Jaskier one year and a half after the mountain.  
> \- the [Muse 'verse](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752481): Modern setting, from hook-up to lovers, rated E, Geralt wears kilts, angst with a happy ending. <20k  
> \- [Calligraphy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25365418): 5k ficwip challenge, College/University, rated E, inspired by art, fluff, 5k  
> \- [In the kitchen of a keep in the mountains](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25910944/chapters/62970847): canon universe, found family, food as a love language, internal monologues, character study, rated T, 12k  
> \- [ There was only one bed and it was uncomfortable](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26283094): 5+1 Crack, rated E, 4k  
> \- [Wish you were here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26579083); canon universe, porn without plot, rated E, 5k. Geralt walks in on Jaskier.. again.  
> \- [As we lie here in our bed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28527864): canon universe, porn without plot, somnophilia prompt for the Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo, rated E, 1k  
> \- [Black in front of my eyes, bark against my back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28616832): canon universe, porn without plot, outdoor, clothed sex, rated E, <1k  
> \- [Things that bump in the night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28617060): pre canon universe, porn without plot, Eskel/Geralt, Kaer Morhen, rated E, <1k  
> \- [I quite like seeing you all tied up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28617300): canon universe, porn without plot, Geraskier, soft bondage, rated E, <1k  
>   
> And you can come yell at me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ArtanisNaanie) too!


End file.
